


Anchorage

by magicianlogician12



Series: You, Me, and the Sea [13]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianlogician12/pseuds/magicianlogician12
Summary: Safe harbor is harder to find than one might think, but the right one is worth waiting for.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Original Female Character(s)
Series: You, Me, and the Sea [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832245
Kudos: 3





	Anchorage

Until relatively recently, Miri had never thought of herself as  _ reputable _ .

Notorious, certainly–she’d spent the better part of a thousand years terrorizing the seas, cultivating quite the reputation and leaving a great deal of havoc in her wake. Her name had been on the Alliance’s ‘Most Wanted’ lists for as long as she could remember, and the Kul Tiran watch list specifically. In a perfect world where justice reigned in absolutes, she would have been brought in to answer for those crimes someday.

Instead, she had joined their ranks. And, evidently, along the way, she had earned a new and different kind of fame.

The kind that let her stand here, today, with some of Kul Tiras’ most influential people, while they overlooked a ship built for the Alliance’s high king, that let her be the one to aid in its construction and bask in the depth of that seemingly-simple accomplishment, because she had been there every step of the way. And wasn’t that ironic in itself? Somehow, in its own way, it felt like atonement, but this was a greater victory for the Kul Tirans and the Alliance than for her.

“Well,” Jaina spoke after everyone present had seemingly gotten their eyeful of the new ship, built by Dorian Atwater’s capable hands, “I suppose only two pieces remain–first, the ship needs a name. Any suggestions?”

A moment of silence fell, and Miri continued to watch over the ship with one hand resting idly on the hilt of her cutlass. Rosaline Madison was the first to speak, halberd in hand. “ _ Anduin’s Wrath _ . The Horde will learn to fear her!”

Miri snorted, but didn’t take her eyes off the ship. “If you knew the king at all, you’d know that ‘wrath’ isn’t usually the first word that comes to mind when thinking of him.”

“All right then, Miss Alliance,” Rosaline drawled, “let’s hear  _ your  _ suggestion.”

At that, Miri did turn her head to fully engage with the conversation, a rakish grin stretching across her face. “No suggestions here. If you knew  _ me _ , you’d know I only specialize in nitpicking others’ ideas.”

Rosaline snorted and rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but Miri hadn’t voiced the real reason she refused to offer an opinion here. ‘Miss Alliance’ might have been Rosaline’s improvised barb to jab her with, but in some of the most important ways, Miri felt like it still wasn’t quite true. She was here because Jaina had asked her to be here, because in some way she was well-regarded enough for her aid and her presence to mean something, but this was not her victory to celebrate, and she was big enough of a person to acknowledge that now.

Brother Pike quelled the bickering that threatened to rise up by saying, “She seems like a… _ Dawnsailor  _ to me.”

“The Alliance is fond of its lions,” Tandred, the newly-minted captain of the yet-unnamed ship, offered, “so…how does  _ Lionheart  _ sound?”

In any other circumstance, or, perhaps, in any circumstance for ship-naming Miri had been involved in during the past thousand years or so, the decision would’ve fallen to the captain what to name the vessel, but she supposed this one was too much of a symbol for one person to have free reign on that decision. Everyone seemed to be considering for a moment, then Lady Katherine spoke up, “ _ Tiffin’s Melody _ .”

“They all have merit,” Jaina remarked, brow furrowed pensively. “I suppose the choice falls to you, Captain.”

It took more than a beat of silence for Miri to realize  _ she  _ was the one being addressed, not Tandred, and she blinked as she looked out over the assembled group, whose eyes had all turned to her. “Who, me?”

“Unless there’s someone else aside from my brother who carries the title.” a grin twitched at the corner of Jaina’s lips.

“Proudmoore, are you sure you really want that decision to fall on  _ me _ ?” Miri arched a brow. “Having my name tied to it might not be the best idea.”

“It’s not as though we’re planning on naming it the  _ Shadeweaver _ ,” Tandred pointed out. “Your name isn’t exactly catchy enough.”

“Very funny.”

“Captain,” Jaina spoke again, more seriously this time, and laid a hand on Miri’s forearm, “this ship wouldn’t be here today if not for you. You have just as much of a voice in this decision as anyone else here.”

“Yeah, plus since you didn’t  _ have  _ a suggestion, you gotta pick between everyone else’s now.” Rosaline interjected.

So Miri turned back to the ship, drifting in the distance, and considered. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t consider the name  _ Anduin’s Wrath _ without suppressing a snicker, so that one was off the table.  _ Lionheart  _ was a strong possibility, and  _ Tiffin’s Melody _ had a very personal, sentimental ring to it that the young king would no doubt appreciate, but one of them kept standing out to her, and she considered that one the longest.

_ Dawnsailor _ .

In so many ways that hadn’t seemed significant until the end of it all, Miri supposed she had seen this war from the very beginning–the burning of Teldrassil–and its very end, at the very gates of Orgrimmar itself. Most of the world’s strife hadn’t felt personal to Miri in a long, long time, but the day she had made landfall on Kul Tiras with Jaina, what felt like a whole lifetime ago, and been jailed in Tol Dagor alongside the Illidari commander, it had been a turning point.

She had seen Kul Tiras at its lowest, darkest hour, and had a significant hand in seeing those wounds mended, in seeing truths brought to light that changed the fate of not only this country, but also the Alliance, and by extension, the world.

And now it culminated here, at a symbol floating gracefully in the waters just off the coast of Stormsong Valley, a symbol of new growth from cold, cracked ground, a symbol for unity and solidarity that  _ she  _ had helped see realized.

It was all those things, and so much more, that made Miri say “ _ Dawnsailor _ ,” because the seemingly-endless night these people had suffered in order to see this dawn, this new beginning, was worth celebrating.

Miri felt Jaina’s eyes on her for a beat before she turned back to the ship and said, “Well chosen. Brother Pike, would you do the honors?”

For a majority of her life, magic had been something vastly over Miri’s head. She was good at sneaking, at using a blade to devastating effect, and in some cases, taking a battlefield by storm with her evasive combat tactics. She would admit, though, after spending so much time in Kul Tiras–and after fetching enough tomes for Tixxi on the subject–tidesage magic was fascinating to her. It would never be a field where she excelled, but the sudden leap in her chest borne of curiosity made her blurt out, “Can I go with?”

Perhaps it was the long-standing habit of others to dismiss her interests or the obvious notion that magic was not her strength that made her regret the spur-of-the-moment request, but it was allayed with Jaina saying, “Of course–we’ll wait here.”

Loaded into a simple rowboat, Miri sat perched on her ankles as Brother Pike took them out closer to the  _ Dawnsailor _ , halting them a short distance away. “Storm above and tides below,” he intoned, “hear us now! Breathe strength into our sails, and guard us against the crushing depths! Let this vessel be one with the vast oceans, and us with her. Sea to sea,” he continued his spell, but this time energy formed around him, in soothing blue with hints of arcane violet, “storm to storm,” blue and bright violet turned to a blinding indigo, and Miri watched, enraptured, as he finished, “tide to tide.”

A beam of ocean-sky blue energy raced for the ship’s middle mast, coating it in an aura of power and leaving a bubble of oceanic energy around it, which hovered for only a few split seconds before fading. Where the ship met the waves, power still rippled as smoothly as the waves themselves, and Miri tore her gaze away only when the rowboat turned, preparing to take them back to shore.

Nothing seemed immediately out of the ordinary, but…Jaina was speaking to someone in a hooded cowl at the docks, someone Miri didn’t recognize until they closed more distance.

_ Tix? Did Proudmoore summon her? _

With her boots on sand again, Miri strode briskly up the steps until she stood before both of them–Tixxi grinned, and Jaina raised a brow. “Hope you aren’t planning to steal my shaman, Proudmoore.” Miri joked.

“Nah,” Tixxi spoke first, still hooded against the breezy afternoon. “She just had somethin' she wanted to ask. No biggie.”

“Shall we go and prepare to deliver the ship to Stormwind?” Jaina gestured towards the ship, and while Miri was undeniably curious what had brought Tixxi from her crew's lodgings in Boralus all the way here, she had been assured it was nothing serious, and the allure of standing upon a ship’s deck again was almost overwhelming.

“Let’s see what Atwater’s built, then.” was all Miri said, trying not to seem too excited.

_ This isn’t yours, it’s for the Alliance. _

It wasn’t until Miri and Jaina were standing at the furthest aft section of the ship, where its navigation wheel waited expectantly, that Jaina spoke again. They were, for the moment, alone, and Miri was learning to cherish those swift, fleeting moments when they came.

“I haven’t seen such a rite performed in a long time,” Jaina said, her arms crossed on the deck’s railing, looking down over the Outriggers as they prepared the ship to depart. “Not since I was a young girl.”

Miri leaned next to Jaina on the railing, hit with that same inexplicable burst of longing, but with effort, she shoved it aside. “This was a first for me, but I admit it was…awe-striking.”

“I could tell,” the warm fondness in Jaina’s voice was something Miri had a feeling she would never tire of, no matter how many times she heard it, and this time was no exception, “you looked quite captivated.” Reaching for where Miri’s hand was draped over the railing, Miri surrendered it gladly, and Jaina wrapped her fingers around Miri’s longer, thinner ones. “It means a great deal to me that you were here for this.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Proudmoore.” she said, and, despite the pang in her chest that told her she had missed standing upon the deck of a ship more than she’d thought, knew it was the truth. She wouldn’t trade any ship for this, for these quiet moments when there was no Lord Admiral or Alliance privateer captain, only Jaina and Miri and the smell of sea air that drifted around them both.

They allowed themselves a few more beats of silence, then with a single squeeze, Jaina released her grip on Miri’s hand, and said, “It’s time for the  _ Dawnsailor  _ to make her maiden voyage. Captain, would you do the honors?”

Again, Miri glanced briefly around the deck for Tandred, only to find him missing. “Without the ship’s  _ actual  _ captain?” she teased. “I think we’d best wait for your brother. Not to mention, she’s a bit bigger of a vessel than I’m used to.”

“Too big for you to handle?” came Tandred’s voice, followed shortly after by the captain himself as he ascended the final set of stairs with a grin. “Guess it makes sense that a simple pirate captain couldn’t pilot a real Kul Tiran warship.”

Her one eye narrowed, Miri gripped the navigator’s wheel with renewed determination and said, “You asked for it, Captain. This is a matter of pride now.”

“Don’t crash my ship, Captain.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,  _ Captain _ .”

It was true, the  _ Dawnsailor  _ was a bigger ship than Miri had ever captained for any notable length of time, but whether it was because of the ship’s construction or the blessings provided by Brother Pike, it sailed more smoothly than Miri expected. In short order they’d left Kul Tiras behind them, and coasted through open waters.

Not since the disastrous approach to Nazjatar had Miri gotten this kind of view of the sea, and even then it had held an undercurrent of tension, of  _ expectation _ . This voyage did, as well, but it was far easier to forget it when this trip was a victory in itself, and not a fast-approaching defeat. Her crew was not here, and this ship was vastly different from the  _ Tide _ , but that same feeling of unbridled freedom was there. Surrounded by the sea on all sides, the sun slowly inching back down the sky as the hours passed, her hands gripping the firm wood of the ship’s wheel, it could have almost been any day Miri had led her crew on their latest caper.

Almost.

* * *

Dawn broke, and the  _ Dawnsailor  _ made her final approach into Stormwind’s harbor.

Word had already been sent to the young king as well as all his top advisors to see what all the fuss was about, so there was a small crowd waiting at the furthest dock. No matter what fame she’d wrung out of her career with the Alliance thus far, Miri was not expected to rub elbows with the dignitaries, a fact she found herself grateful for. She sat upon the steps alongside the  _ Dawnsailor’s  _ new crew as King Anduin marveled at the ship.

“When you asked to meet me at the harbor, I had no idea what you had in mind–this is…incredible!”

“Kul Tiras and the Alliance once shared a bond of friendship.” it was subtle, small, almost undetectable to anyone who didn’t know her well enough, but Miri could hear the smile in Jaina’s voice, and couldn’t help but smile in return, even if it wasn’t meant for her. “Now both of our peoples will see that bond reforged.”

“I can think of no grander gesture, Lord Admiral. What is her name?”

Jaina turned, then, to fix a glance on Miri, who stood and sketched a lazy bow in their direction–a smattering of laughter came up from the ship’s crew as Miri announced, “ _ Dawnsailor _ , Your Majesty.”

The release of breath felt like a collective pulse of something powerful, something unnameable, and whether he felt it too, or not, the king said, “And into the dawn she will sail.” And Miri had a feeling it was good enough.

Miri was no emissary, no diplomat, but she didn’t need to be in order to feel the  _ hope  _ that circulated around them all, like mist on a summer sea, warmed by the sunlight. This ship, no matter its destination through the tides, would be something special. And Miri, scourge upon the seas and unrepentant scoundrel, had come full circle to help see it realized.

If that wasn’t worth celebrating, she didn’t know what was.

Bit by bit, the  _ Dawnsailor _ ’s deck cleared of the Alliance’s most powerful and influential leaders, until just the crew remained, and Jaina beckoned Miri forward with a swift gesture. Breaking off from helping one of the Outriggers tie a section of knots, she sauntered over. “Something I can do for you, Proudmoore?”

“There’s still one more matter I’d like your help with.” Jaina told her, walking to the edge of the deck. “Back in Stormsong Valley. I can teleport us there whenever you’re ready.”

Miri raised a long, violet brow. “That urgent?”

“Call it anticipation.” Jaina admitted. “It isn’t an emergency, but it  _ is _ important. Your shaman will meet us at the shipyard there.”

“Would this have anything to do with what you were discussing yesterday, by chance?”

“I suppose you’ll have to trust me to find out.”

With a very put-upon sigh that wasn’t even remotely genuine, Miri told her, “I guess I can clear my schedule for you, Proudmoore. Lead the way.”

With a brief pulse of arcane power, a portal opened and showed a hazy, blurry vision of Stormsong Valley’s rolling green hills. Jaina stepped through, but Miri paused and took one last look at the  _ Dawnsailor  _ and her crew, going about their tasks with such ease they could’ve been doing it for years, before following.

Stormwind’s sunny morning was replaced by Stormsong Valley’s weak, overcast rays, and the scent of rain on the horizon. They stood not far from Tidecross, where the  _ Dawnsailor  _ had departed from, and Jaina was already a good distance down the path by the time Miri emerged after her.

“So, where are we going?” Miri asked when she caught up to Jaina’s brisk walk. “You’re being awfully secretive.”

“We’re almost there, so you’ll have to curb your curiosity until then.” Jaina regarded her with a faint lift on one side of her lips. “Patience is a virtue, Captain.”

Shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, Miri rolled her whole head in lieu of rolling her eyes. “Is this a mission or what?”

“You could call it that.”

From then on, they walked in silence until they reached the opposite side of the shipyard Dorian had appropriated for the  _ Dawnsailor _ ’s construction. Hidden in a section of the yard not openly visible from across the strait, there was another ship, smaller in construction than the  _ Dawnsailor  _ and, to Miri’s eye, looked more like a scouting vessel, with less armament but greater maneuverability.

“Do you see that ship in the distance?” Jaina stopped them and pointed across the waves. “I asked Dorian to also construct that one, time permitting–she needs a name, as well.”

“Not that I’m complaining, Proudmoore, but I hope you aren’t putting me in charge of naming  _ every  _ new ship that your fleet makes.” Miri folded her arms and regarded the ship for a moment before meeting Jaina’s gaze again. “I don’t think I’m quite that creative.”

“You won’t need to name all of them.” Jaina told her calmly. “But if you could name this one anything–no holds barred, no options off the table–what would you name her?”

Miri considered. She had only conjured the  _ Silent Tide _ ’s name after many long nights of considering what strategies she wished to employ when she first became a full-fledged pirate, and she had not been asked to name another ship since. In the end, her answer was simple, but heavier with meaning than most people would know. “ _ Tide’s Reprisal _ . That way it doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything special, or reference the  _ Tide _ , but…” Miri shrugged, then chuckled to bely the sudden crash of fresh grief, “…you did say ‘no holds barred’.”

Jaina nodded and turned to the nearest dock, where a rowboat floated…and Tixxi perched atop it, ostensibly waiting for them. “Tixxi, would you do the honors?”

“You got it.” Tixxi shifted to the front of the boat, and Jaina went down to the dock, Miri following in her footsteps until all three of them fit neatly on the boat’s seats. “This will be my first–but I think I've been studying the right stuff .”

"She's not a tidesage, Proudmoore." Miri glanced over her shoulder at where Jaina sat. "Will it still work the same way?"

"I've been lookin' into some things since we have an, uh, _abundance_ of free time these days." Tixxi said, shifting her hands, slowly taking the boat out. "Your Lord Admiral got me what I needed. Don't have the official 'ordained' status of a tidesage, but I've been guidin' your ships for years--she seemed to think I'm good."

“So long as it doesn't backfire like a lot of your inventions," Miri joked, and Tixxi rolled her eyes, but her hands continued to move, and the boat coasted across the waves until it rested a short distance away from the newly-named vessel.

“Storm above and tides below, hear us now.” Tixxi raised her arms and gathered her power, and water rippled around them, swirling in a delicate spiral. “Breathe strength into our sails, and guard us against the crushing depths–let this vessel be one with the vast oceans, and us with her. Sea to sea, storm to storm, tide to tide.”

It was no less incredible, Miri thought, witnessing this ritual for the second time. Tixxi's power was noticeably different than Brother Pike’s, but in some odd way, no matter how out of tune Miri considered herself to be with most magic, it felt familiar, and it felt  _ right _ .

Just as before, a beam of ocean-blue light leapt from Tixxi's hands to the ship’s mast, and the whole vessel was shrouded in it before the energy dissipated, but rather than take them back to shore, Tixxi pulled their rowboat within range to climb aboard the vessel, using a rope ladder draped over the edge. Climbing aboard first, Jaina followed, and Miri climbed up last, suspicion worming its way through her chest. “Well, it’s been done, Proudmoore–the ship’s named and blessed. I’d really like to get some sleep, if there’s nothing else.”

“I know it’s been a long night, but…continue to humor me for a while longer?” the dark shadows under Jaina’s eyes, blue as the sea below, said that she too would’ve probably liked to be sleeping right at the moment, but as long as she had a job to do, Miri would be there.

“All right. What else do you need me to do?” casting her gaze around the ship’s deck, she was struck, again, by a burst of nostalgia, but she vastly preferred nostalgia to grief. The construction was different, but the size was not, and Miri thought of the last time she had seen the  _ Tide _ , its split-open wreck strewn across two outcroppings of coral.

She shook the memory loose just in time for Jaina to say, “Take a walk around the ship and give it a good inspection–any issues you would normally look for in a newly-built vessel.”

“The  _ Tide  _ wasn’t exactly new when I got her,” Miri remarked, casting her gaze around the ship’s outer decks, “but I’ll do my best.”

It was, all in all, a remarkable ship. It still smelled of fresh-cut lumber and wood finish, and the metal fittings were new and untarnished, but there was something about the ship that made Miri’s chest ache when she walked through it. Something about it felt so deeply, sorely familiar, or if not familiar, then welcoming, but that seemed the wrong word.

It had fewer decks than the  _ Dawnsailor _ , really just the top-most deck, the middle deck where the ship’s crew would reside, as well as the galley, and the bottom deck deep within the hull, which could be used as both a brig and for storage. It was built to carry more than the  _ Tide  _ had been capable of and still stay maneuverable, a nod to the Kul Tiran construction.

The captain’s quarters were situated in a small cabin level with the open deck, at the ship’s aft section, and were roomier than the  _ Tide _ ’s had been, with enough room for an honest-to-goodness bed instead of the inter-hull contraption Miri had asked Tixxi to install for her some years ago.

On the open deck, Jaina waited with her staff’s end resting on the newly-treated wood, and turned at Miri’s approach. “Well?”

“A beautiful ship.” Miri folded her arms and leaned her weight on one side. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, or anything that made me concerned–it’s a brand-new ship just waiting for someone to take it on an adventure, and that’s the highest praise I can give any new ship. Hopefully whoever winds up getting it can appreciate what it was made for.”

“It’s yours.”

It didn’t really register the first time–Miri was sure she must have misheard, or misunderstood, or  _ something _ , but there was no misunderstanding the grin on Jaina’s face, wide and open and  _ excited _ . Still, Miri managed “What?” with her usual volume stolen by shock.

“It’s yours.” Jaina repeated, her grin somehow stretching wider, into something bright and shining, and it was that, more than anything, that convinced Miri this was real. “If you want it, that is.”

“If I…?” Miri gestured around at the ship– _ her ship _ –heart racing like hummingbird wings in her chest as her face split into a grin so wide it almost hurt, until it couldn’t be contained anymore and a laugh burst free of her chest. Sweeping her arms easily under Jaina’s hips, Miri easily picked her up and spun them both, to the tune of Jaina losing her grip on her staff, dropping it to the deck, and their bright, bursting laughter, Jaina’s arms locked around Miri’s neck.

There was nothing, absolutely  _ nothing  _ in the world that could compare to this–Miri had missed sailing, missed the freedom of it, but even here, now, with a new ship’s deck beneath her boots and the wide, open ocean ahead, there was nowhere she would rather be than here.

It was a realization that hit her in the chest with the force of a blade, but just as quickly as it came, it settled in her chest, warm and certain, and Miri set Jaina back on the deck even if she wasn’t quite ready to let her go just yet.

Not now, not ever.

“Marry me.”

Miri didn’t know who was more shocked by the statement, her or Jaina, but Jaina went stock-still where Miri’s hands still rested on her hips, struck momentarily speechless.

It was out there, though, and Miri made no attempt to take it back even as her logic struggled to keep up. “I know it’s more than a little unconventional and it may not be the right time with so much rebuilding to do with the war effort, but…I’ve never been more sure of what I want than now. You’ve given me…so  _ much _ , Jaina.” Miri released one hand to gesture at the ship. “And I don’t just mean  _ this _ . Honestly,” Miri summoned a shaky grin, attempting a return to her usual levity, “I feel like I’m a little unprepared. You give me a home and my livelihood back, and all I have right at the moment is…well,  _ me _ .”

Half joke or not, something about the statement broke Jaina’s momentary, thunderstruck silence, and even though there were shimmering tears in her eyes, her voice was steady. “Joke if you want, Miri, but I’m not sure if you know just how much you’ve given  _ me _ . After…” she paused, taking a deep breath, “…after  _ everything _ , I wasn’t sure I would ever reach this point again. This…ability to simply  _ be _ . You have seen my scars, my anger, the bitterness I have begun to let go of, and you have never tried to change me into something–someone–I am not.” With one hand, Jaina reached for the chain around Miri’s neck, pulling the small compass she had once enchanted to point the way back to Boralus, no matter its direction, free from the folds of Miri’s shirt, holding it in her palm. “When I gave you this, I told you it was so that you could find your way home, no matter where you were.”

“And I took it, knowing I had a home, but it wasn’t Boralus. Not really.” Miri closed her hand around Jaina’s, clasping the compass between them. “I would call you home for as long as you would have me, Jaina.”

“Yes.” Jaina finally whispered, and she clutched the compass tighter in her hand. “Yes, of  _ course  _ I would marry you, Ismirah Shadeweaver. Even if it’s not right away, even if it has to wait.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Proudmoore.” Miri tightened her grip on the compass in turn. “And you know it.”

Their kiss tasted of the salt in the sea air and the salt of joyful tears, made softer with the weight of the promise it held, and Miri decided, standing upon the deck of the ship she had been gifted to her by the one person she had truly loved, she couldn’t care less how history spelled her out.

The important things were here, in the moments only they knew, and could never be taken from them, and now a whole lifetime of those moments waited for them.


End file.
